


The Aftermath

by LithiumNails



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumNails/pseuds/LithiumNails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They try to tell her it’s over. But what she’ll never say is that she was the one who took the lead, and the reality of her failure is keeping her just as frozen as their comrades in crystal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Serah

She’s met some lovely people now that she’s awake. It must be every week that Snow throws his arm around her shoulder, and she and the rest of NORA find themselves leaning in around a table at Lebreau’s as he tells a new story about their heroic endeavors, and, sometimes, their more embarrassing experiences. 

She listens more intently, perhaps, than anyone else. Sazh was out to save his son, she knows, but she tries to put the image of the very fatherly figure on a battlefield, surrounded by monsters she can’t clearly fathom. Something about it just doesn’t seem to fit. She supposes it would be more believable if he came back scarred and battered, and maybe with a drinking problem, but he didn’t. He came back, settled down into his life, and did it with a good sense of humor and an energy she finds warm and genuine and lovely to be around. 

Hope was just a boy when it happened, only a few years younger than her. Actually, he was still just a boy when she met him, but from what she hears he did a lot of growing on the way. She sees him now, a couple of years later, as a member of the Guardian Corp, and he seems sturdy. But it’s still hard to imagine the kid he was the day that they met, learning to survive in the wild, and learning the healing magic he needed to take up the responsibility of his friends’ lives. They say he grew up out there, sure, but she still sees youth and wonder behind his eyes. 

She knows firsthand that Snow came back exactly the same. Loving, loud, laughing, proud, telling stories and jokes and ordering rounds for his friends, and kissing her the same way he did before their entire world was ripped nearly to shreds. But listening to every tiny detail of every story he’ll tell her, she can’t conceive how it’s possible. 

The only difference, the only sign that anything had happened to them at all, is that _look._ That look they get, when a story ends, and the former l’cie lock eyes. There’s a quiet there, and an understanding, as if they’re seeing a part of the story that no one else can see. And, really, they are. 

But what she can’t understand is what happened to Claire. Claire _did_ come back scarred and battered, and she did come back with a hollow look in her eyes, and she wasn’t the same at all. In fact, at this point, she was closing in on a drinking problem too. 

And Serah just can’t figure out why. Why Claire, and not any of the others? So far, not one of the stories she’s heard can tell her why none of them are different except for her sister. 

Was she wrong? Did Dajh see a change in his father? Did Bartholomew see a darkness in his son that the rest of them were missing? Was Snow hiding some new side of himself from her? She didn’t think so. 

Of course, Claire was still their comrade. She was still a part of the _look_ at the ends of stories, that made Serah feel more than anything else like she had missed something profound and eternally bonding while she was in crystal sleep. 

She wished that she could have been a hero too, and a hero good enough to share in that _look,_ and understand her sister just that little bit better. But she suspects that even the former l’cie don’t know what’s happened to their Lightning. 

Everyone sees her closing herself off, and shutting down. They feel the days on end she spends alone in her childhood house, and they feel the weeks straight that she puts in overtime with the Corp, and whether she’s avoiding them or seeking something, she senses that they’re all the same kind of oblivious. 

But Sazh has a boy to care for now, and Hope is in training, and she and Snow, well, their trying to ease into a real sort of life; and that just leaves Claire, with no one to look out for her. 

She goes when she can, spends nights, cooks dinners, tries to talk. She’ll drag her sister out for a get together, and speak with her as much as she can with what words she can coax out of the soldier, but it’s an uphill battle and the both of them are slipping fast. She’s running out of ideas, and out of confidence that everything will turn out alright in the end, like it has for everyone else, but not for Claire. 

And Claire, well. She’s disappearing right in front of all of them, and it’s so jarring she’s noticed that they’ve got a ‘look’ of their own to pass around every time their noble leader slips just that little bit further downhill. 


	2. Excavation

“Claire?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Do you not have hot water?” 

Serah stood at the sink in Lightning’s kitchen, busying herself with cleaning their dishes after dinner. She had tried to keep conversation light, and tried to keep a positive air around her, but there she was with her fingers under freezing water, and there Lighting was at the kitchen table, unfazed as ever. 

“I must have forgotten to pay the bill.” 

“Claire… if you don’t have the money, you can stop giving your stipend to Snow and I.” 

“Of course I have the money, with my GC income and the stipend I’ve got enough for two. It simply slipped my mind. Besides, aren’t you planning on having a little Villiers running around? Our stipends are only enough to live on for one person, Snow’s isn’t going to be able to support a family.” 

“Claire, my business is doing fine, and despite what you think, it’s going to be ok even when the evacuation is done with. Besides, Snow… he’ll find something to do after the evac too. 

“The economy isn’t stable yet. If your serious about starting a family, then you’ve gotta act like it, and save the money I give you.” 

“Ok…” She sat down across from Lightning trying to catch her eye, examining her sister in the dimming light of the room as the sun faded away behind her. “It’s gonna be a Farron,” she finally said, certain that nagging her sister any further would be met with another rebuff. 

“What?” 

“Our baby. If we have one, it’s gonna be a Farron, not a Villiers.” 

“Really? Why?” Serah was pleased to find that her sister finally sounded interested in something.” 

“Well, Snow’s an orphan after all. He barely knew his family, and he doesn’t feel too attached to the name… but us, we… we were a real family. We still are. We’re the Farrons.” 

Though Lightning remained silent, and continued to stare steadily down at the table, Serah decided to push her luck. 

“He really appreciates it, you know. Finally having a family. Us.” She leaned forward a bit, still trying to catch her sister’s eye. “He really likes that you let him call you ‘sis’ now.” 

“Well, he deserves it.” Her voice held none of the animosity it used to. Her respect for Snow was genuine… but it seemed to Serah that it was only symptomatic of the loss of her old self, and of the pervading exaughstion that seemed to consume her. 

“He’s working on tomorrow’s evacuation. Are you heading that one, too?” 

“Yes. Are you volunteering?” 

“Yup. So I’ll see you bright and early, right?” 

“Of course.” Lightning stood from the table, stretching. “I should turn in early, I have to be up before sunrise to prepare.” 

“Ok.” Serah moved to envelop her sister in a hug. “Sleep well. I’ll see you soon.” On her way out, she tapped her fingers against the light switch, wanting to fight off the shadows crawling quickly into the house. Only the lights didn’t turn on. “Claire…?” 

“I’ll... pay the bills tomorrow.” 

“Claire, how long have you been living with no heat and no light?” 

The mild panic was evident in Serah’s voice, and Lightning felt an all too familiar pang of disappointment in herself for causing it. “I have both,” she said softly, flames flickering to life atop her fingertips. 

“That’s not the same thing.” Serah’s eyes had gone glassy with the sadness she was trying to subdue. “Please don’t forget. Please… take care of yourself.” 

“Serah, it’s not a big deal. People were living on Gran Pulse for centuries with no electricity, and with no heat, and they all got on just fine.” 

“Well you’re not a Pulsian!” 

“No, I’m not, I’m a former l’cie and if I can handle that then I can handle throwing an extra blanket on my bed.” 

Lightning’s voice had gone hard again. A cold, grating sound that told Serah that her sister wasn’t at all angry with her, or with the lights, or with anything else tangible and present. Instead, she was furious about something buried under layers of stubbornness and silence, and for all Serah could guess, pain. “You’re right. I just worry about you.” 

“Serah…” Lightning whispered. She reached for her little sister’s arm and walked her to the door, hand held in front of both of them with the spell still licking at her fingers, illuminating the way out. 

“I love you,” Lightning murmured as Serah slipped on her coat. “I don’t want you to worry.” 

“I know, but you’re just making it so damn hard.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

And there it was. The most acknowledgement that something was wrong that Lightning had ever given. Serah wasn’t sure how to take it. It was terrifying in a way that she hadn’t expected, to hear her sister admit that her behavior was frightening. To hear nothing follow, nothing to indicate that it would be ok and that it would be over soon. “I… its ok. Just pay the bill, alright? Take care of yourself…” 

“Alright.” Lightning tugged her sister into a one armed hug, still holding the flames aloft. 

XXX

It was harder for Lightning to fall asleep than she had planned. But then again, most nights it was, while she lay staring listlessly out her window. Far off in the distance, miles away from New Bodhum, the slender web of crystal gleamed in the moonlight, holding up Cocoon. 

All of them had traveled together through Cocoon, and all across Pulse, but that one spot, that one silvery pinprick against the sky was where everything really happened. Where they had made their stand, and where she had took the lead one final time. 

It was where Ragnarok had stood, brought forth through the flesh of two of their companions, turning everything to cinder and turning them all to crystal with the conclusion of their focus. Because as much as she was a talented soldier, and as much as she was a deadly l’cie… as much as she was their leader, she didn’t have an ounce of the power needed to defy fate. She wasn’t the one. It was Fang. 

Her stomach roiled to even think the woman’s name. But she had to accept it; staring off at that crystal pillar she had to admit it to herself. She wasn’t strong enough. They needed Fang and Vanille, snagged out of their own time and into Lightning’s, to bring back that archaic force that could knock Cocoon out of the sky. 

But instead, they had saved it. They had called forth enough magic to rise up to the falling viper’s nest and hold it fast, and save everyone, and save even the l’cie. But they couldn’t save themselves. And they were still there, two members of her party trapped as statues, because really, as much as she was a hero, she didn’t have an ounce of power. She couldn’t even save two people. 

XXX

“Hey, Light!” The Cadets went quiet as Hope approached their Sergeant, obviously uncomfortable with the familiarity someone of their low rank had with their stoic commanding officer. 

“Hey, Hope.” Lightning turned away from her troupe as they finished prepping the caravan. 

“Serah and I got Maqui to join in today.” 

“That lazy bum? He’s really gonna help?” 

“Yes,” he said, smiling as Lightning’s usual grumpiness made an appearance. “What, you don’t like my taste in friends?” 

Lightning rolled her eyes. “Of course not… but why don’t you make some friends in your class of Cadets?” 

“Ah. They kind of avoid me. I think ‘cause I’m friends with you.” 

“They think you get preferential treatment?” 

“No… I’m pretty sure they think I’ll squeal if I catch them doing anything… you might not approve of.” 

“Like what?” 

“See? That right there? That’s exactly what they’re afraid of, and that is exactly why I have no idea.” 

“Well… sorry. We could speak to each other less, if that would help.” 

“Are you kidding? Out of everyone you know, even your own sister, I spend the most time with you. And it’s because of _this_ uniform.” He plucked at his collar. “I’m not giving that up.” 

Lightning winced at the truth of her neglect. “Well… we’ve got twelve families still up there, and five of them are coming down today.” 

“Ugh. Can’t we just drag them all down and be done with it?” 

“You know damn well we can’t. Serah’s only got five more houses up, and we’re only bringing down what will fill them. And nothing more.” 

Hope’s face twisted in dissatisfaction. “We could just put them in a temporary shelter… Etro knows we’ve got plenty of those lying around since the exodus.” 

“We’ll be done in a few months, Hope. Then we can… try. Alright? They aren’t going anywhere.” 

They glanced out of habit to the far off crystal. “I just want to hurry up,” he said. 

“…Me too.” Lightning admitted. “But we can’t. We don’t even know if…” The two tore their eyes away from Cocoon. Hope had picked up Lightning’s philosophy of ‘one thing at a time,’ and the two now refused to distract themselves with ‘what if’s and ‘how’s and ‘why’s while there was still work to be done in the here and now. “You suited up?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Then get to work.” 

Hope nodded and turned on his heel, making his way over to his velocycle. The other soldiers watched him go, the only soldier in the Corp who could get away with leaving Lightning Farron’s company without a salute. 

XXX

It had been two years since Cocoon’s plummet, and while the exodus had been immediate—a flood of hovering crafts of all kinds pouring onto Pulse—there was still a chunk of the population that couldn’t flee, and that had been living on the suspended country in a constant fear of its crystal support collapsing. 

Those who landed on Pulse had actually put themselves in more immediate danger. Casualties from exposure, starvation, diseases Cocoonians had no immunity to. And then there were the monsters, both Pulsian and not. While some were killed by native beasts, others were murdered in the frenzy by fellow citizens. 

The exodus turned Pulse, for a brief while, into the hell that past propaganda had led them to believe it was. It was only the former l’cie who could arrange the survivors into order, and thus New Bodhum was erected, a great enough distance from the pillar to maintain safety, within a close enough range that the much more peaceful evacuation could be carried out. 

But Lightning wasn’t interested in any of that. She didn’t care about the countless hours she toiled moving people’s lives from the sky to the ground. She cared about the precious few she was allowed to spend on what some called a rescue mission, and what others called an excavation. 

Despite constant resistance, Lightning was allowed to head a project clearing a tunnel through the pillar. There were people in there, she had screamed at her superior officers and at the general population alike. There were people in there who had risked _everything_ to save the very Cocoonians who now refused to help them. They could be alive, she argued. They could wake up. 

Finally it came to threats. The former l’cie still had magic. The former l’cie had an understanding of Gran Pulse. The former l’cie could, in theory, excavate their friends on their own if they wanted to and, should they please, leave and allow everyone else to fend for themselves. 

Lightning’s threats had been made in anguish and desperation, but to her surprise the others immediately backed her up. Numbly she realized that she was still their leader, and with a swell of relief she found that she wasn’t the only one hoping beyond reason to see Fang and Vanille freed from their prison. 

So the deal was struck. She would spend entire days from sunrise to sundown doing a soldier’s duty and helping in the evac, and she would be permitted to use army resources and research to, as safely as possible, try and carve out her friends. 

XXX 

Their world looked warped from inside the crystal. As the evacuation was drawing near its end, Lightning stole away into the cramped cavern, running her palm along the smooth edge of the wall as she wandered down sloppily chiseled steps. The vision of their town in the distance wavered as she moved, becoming bulbous before shrinking as the veil between them thickened and thinned. From outside, faint voices of soldiers echoed in, distorting completely and losing their meaning. 

A scramble of footsteps from further down barely had time to register in her mind before Hope stumbled into view, frantic and dazed. 

“Lightning! Come quick!” And he was off again the way he came.” 

The two moved as fast as they could on the slippery landscape, until they came to the familiar chasm where their friends lay, curled together eternally. Immediately Lightning was filled with the same panic as Hope. Without warning a light had begun to resonate throughout the small area, seeming to ripple from… Vanille. 

Lightning bolted for the stairway. “I need to call a full evacuation!” She screamed without looking back. She couldn’t think about what this meant. There was no time for a ‘what if,’ there was only time for the here and the now and the immediate danger any fundamental change in the structure posed to the remaining citizens and all of her troops. And she was fairly certain that Vanille counted as fundamental to the structure. 

She flew through the crowds issuing orders she barely heard herself. A ringing had taken up occupancy in her ears and in her mind, but she was comforted to see uniforms snapping to attention and running off at her word. 

Leave your belongings behind. Move as far away from the base and toward New Bodhum as possible. Remain with your families. Remain near a soldier. Remain calm. She assumed that was what she managed to convey, and by the time she made it through the chaos to the pillar’s base she could hear the exact sentiment being yelled over a loudspeaker. Good. 

She found Serah, who was assuring civilians that if the structure did not collapse their belongings would be retrieved by soldiers once everything was safe. Very good. 

The crowd was edging away, the five families officially evacuated on the way to their new homes, and the rest, as Hope had wanted it, on their way to a shelter. But where was Hope? He seemed much more likely to wait for her than to help with... in fact, there was no way he would have left. 

Turning back to the pillar with a chill of terror gripping her, she was about to call out for backup and charge in after her trustworthy, but sometimes still _very_ young companion, when she saw a flash of silver hair come careening from the ground entrance to the crystal. 

“Hope!” She cried, and she and Serah took off running for the boy. 

It only took a few steps for her legs to go numb. There was Hope, in his crisp, white, Corp uniform, on the grassy green planes of Gran Pulse. But behind him… the unmistakable brightness that was Vanille. 

Serah had stopped just ahead of Lightning, and turned back to her now, confused. 

_"Vanille!”_ Her scream was scratchy and choked, and startled Serah as well as herself, but before she could even think about it she was back to running, racing her way to a girl who couldn’t possibly be there, alive, hand in Hope’s and back on Pulse, back before another five hundred years could pass. 

“Oh!” Vanille cried as Lightning wrapped her arms around her old friend, still rough with momentum even as she tried to slow down. “Careful Light, I’m feeling a little dizzy.” 

Lightning didn’t pull away, and couldn’t yet bring herself to say a thing, so she simply pulled her old companion more tightly into her, supporting the girl who seemed frail and faint. 

“I’m sorry, I… think the crystal sleep must have gotten to me,” Vanille’s voice sounded small against her shoulder, and looking down, Lightning found the little redhead’s eyes brimming with tears. 

“Vanille?” 

“I… I don’t know where Fang went. I couldn’t sense her in the crystal, and now, she… she hasn’t woken up!” 

Lightning couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t think about another ‘what if,’ or another god forsaken ‘why.’ All she could do was swing one of the girl’s arms around her shoulders, and instruct Hope to take the other, and lead her back to the velocycles so she could finally, finally bring her home. 


	3. Collapse

Lightning felt like the walls were closing in on her. She had felt pure adrenaline at the rush of seeing Vanille, of seeing one of the glassy faces that had haunted her become rosy and alive again. But since bringing the girl back in the black of night to Serah and Snow’s house, that high had been plummeting down her throat along with her sanity. 

Vanille was weak, and sickly. No longer a l’cie, her body lacked the unnatural resilience once bestowed on her through her curse. She was actually, they realized, the only human to ever wake from a crystal sleep so long. But, as she watched Snow gently ease her onto his living room couch, she realized that Vanille’s waking up was a sign of something gone horribly wrong. 

Though Snow, Hope, and Serah fluttered around her, asking what they could do for her, fetch her, anything she needed, it was plain to Lightning that the trembling redhead could now only worry about Fang. When Vanille looked up to her, as she stood off to the side still for the most part in shock, the two came to an understanding. Vanille would be fine. But Fang could be lost forever. 

Finally, after Hope coaxed her to sip at a glass of water, and Snow had thrown a blanket around her shoulders, they started to feel the new panic as well. 

“What do you mean you couldn’t sense her in the crystal?” Hope asked, the first one to sense Lightning’s urge to quiet things down and assess the situation. 

“During our first sleep, I knew she was there, dreaming along with me. But this time, it was different. It was quiet, and she wasn’t there. I hoped that just meant she had woken up, but... 

“There’s still a chance she could wake up though, isn’t there?” Snow asked, most likely before thinking, and sending Vanille into a fit of tears. 

_A chance? Then odds are she won’t, right?_ Lightning thought bitterly. 

Hope sat next to Vanille, pulling her into a hug. “I’m sure she will! Just because you two weren’t connected this time doesn’t mean a thing! Everything’s different now- l’cie can wake up from stasis, and even retain their magic! Maybe the rules just changed! She could wake up any day, right?” 

He looked over to Lightning, ever trusting, and ever fearing her judgement. The grave look in her eyes showed him everything he didn’t want to see. She was stricken, and completely skeptical of Fang’s recovery. But she saw something in his eyes as well. They still needed to try. 

“You’re right,” Lightning said. “Now that everyone’s evacuated, I’ll arrange to have Fang’s retrieval scheduled immediately.” 

Somehow Lightning’s cold, professional tone brought a sense of comfort to the room. Perhaps it was a throwback to the days when they were all under fire from PSICOM and vicious creatures, and Lightning barking orders over the fray was the only thing they could concentrate on. It made them feel like they had a direction, even in the most hopeless of times. And that night it got Vanille to stop crying. 

But it was all still too much for lightning. Mourning Fang, though the prospect was devastating, still might have been a better alternative to the suffocating feeling of uncertainty. A cold agony slipped into her chest, and locked up her lungs. Before, she had at least had hope that the two would awaken one day—if not in her own life time, then centuries in the future, perhaps even to a better world. On some sleepless nights, staring out at the crystal, she let herself wish the tiniest of wishes that when the sun rose she would find her friends again, alive and well and returning for good. 

But now that wish was being swallowed alive by questions. Why in Eden’s name would only one of them wake up? What did it mean that Fang wasn’t even reachable in stasis? Could something have gone wrong with Ragnarok? Could that monstrous transformation have swallowed her whole? It would be just like Fang, really, to sacrifice herself for Vanille. It would be just like the woman who tried to rip Cocoon out of the sky to protect her sister to take on the burden of holding it in it's place for the same reason. 

Hope was looking at her with gratitude, almost as if she were still somehow their leader. But she was never Fang’s leader. And in the end, she wasn’t Vanille’s, either. They had both kept their secrets, kept their plans hidden. In the end it left Lightning unable to do anything but float helplessly, reaching for Hope’s hand as she watched her friends take over where she had failed. 

Really, she was still floating helplessly. And now, it seemed as though Vanille was getting to experience it too. Seeing the poor girl’s eyes raw with tears, she had to consider the possibility that Fang had kept one more trick to herself, and was willing to make one last sacrifice. 

Vanille’s small, hiccupping breathes somehow reminded Lightning of herself, though she had never allowed herself to cry over what had happened. After all, how could she? She had been given her life back, with Serah back in it happy and healthy. That was all she had asked for, crossing the wilderness of Pulse. Not to be grateful would be a disservice to what had been done for her. 

Maybe she should have asked for more. Her jaw tightened at the thought, and she realized if she kept looking at Vanille, she was going to… 

She moved swiftly to the door, barging outside and crossing the lawn to her velocycle. She needed the air, and she needed to go home. And sleep. Immediately. The only hope that had been keeping her going was now perched inside of her more precariously than Cocoon on it’s pillar. Than the world on Fang’s shoulders, keeping Fang alone like a stillborn God. 

The front door opened again, and she heard her sister’s familiar steps hastening behind her as she swung her leg onto the bike. “Are you ok?” 

She watched her own hands take the bars, and they looked to her somehow foreign; too pale, and too slender. Off over the roof of Serah’s house, the now empty Cocoon was visible. She stared at it a moment, wondering if she should mourn for her lost friend, and if her old home was now a grave marker. 

“There’s still one left,” she said quietly, not meeting Serah’s eyes for a moment. 

Watching her older sister pull away and leave, Serah thought she might have managed to grasp a better understanding of Lightning. Her sister had never been an idealist by any means. She took the knocks life gave them without doing much but drag Serah along, refusing to shed a tear, refusing to complain. The look in her eye and the set of her jaw seemed to say ‘This is what life is. It’s shit.’ But maybe this time was different. Maybe this time, just this once, her sister needed the ideal outcome. The happy ending. Maybe this once she needed everyone safe and sound. But if that couldn’t happen— if Fang never came back— if Claire couldn’t get the one thing she seemed to ask for so desperately with her silence, would she be alright? Or would life finally knock the breath out of her for good? 

At her own home, sitting on her own bed, Lightning stared out at the pillar. She was never one for prayer. She was never one for mourning. But it didn’t feel right this time. It felt like she should say something, like someone was listening. But what remaining deity would hear her? And what could she say? Could she make that feeble wish again, that everything would somehow be alright? Should she ask for Fang’s soul to be guided peacefully to rest? 

But one sounded impossible and foolish, and the other felt sick in her mind, like some blaspheme. Like a betrayal of Fang, to assume the worst. So she did all she knew how, and gazing out to where Fang was floating, maybe by now more alone and more helpless than the rest of them had ever been, she focused all of her energy on one single thought. 

_I’m sorry._

And unbidden, tears spilled forth, and her hand flew to her mouth not knowing what to grasp outside the heat of battle. She heaved forward, unable even to sit upright any longer while her old friend bore the shell of a hollowed metropolis. 

XXX 

In the following weeks, despite having the clear objective of moving Fang’s crystal, Lightning couldn’t bring herself to breathe any easier. None of what she was doing answered any of her questions, but rather added the further anxiety of risking the safety of others should the pillar collapse. 

She was saddened to find that Vanille wasn’t fairing much better. According to Hope, who had joined forces with Serah and Maqui to help assimilate and comfort Vanille, she couldn’t shake the pervading loneliness that came with being separated from the last of her family. 

Though she was, Lightning was assured, slowly doing better. Serah had helped her with a new wardrobe, Maqui had shown her all around town, and Hope had even started teaching her to drive. The activity, he claimed, helped take her mind off of things. But once the day quieted down, a bleak look came into her eyes. 

Lightning could sympathize, and was in fact lead to believe based on Hope’s description of events that Vanille might even be coping better than herself. But it wasn’t until one of their get-togethers at Lebreau’s that Lightning had to finally question her own mental state. 

Snow and Gadot roared with laughter, this time at Sazh’s expense. He hadn’t been the most graceful of pioneers when it came to trekking across Grand Pulse, but to his credit, he sat now laughing along kindly, letting the younger men poke fun at him. 

Story time, Lightning could handle. While the experiences her and the other l’cie had shared was generally a sore spot for her, it was somewhat cathartic to relive them while seeing the excitement in Snow’s friends, or the awe in her sister’s eyes. And the fact that they could now go back and pick out things to laugh about was a small comfort to her. So she could relax, and nurse a beer, and allow herself to spend time with people who, though they might not know it, she considered loved ones. 

And this night, there were a few new stories brought about by Vanille’s added company. Lightning noticed, with a touch of affection, how fond of Vanille Serah had become, and how much curiosity and wonder her little sister showed when it came to hearing about Gran Pulse. Even the things that Lightning had taken for granted when she was first crossing the terrain— the types of insects, and the plants—Serah wanted to know all about. 

So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when at long last Serah wanted to hear about Fang. Previously, the two native Pulsians had been somewhat of an off limits topic, as every l’cie, and not just Lightning, had trouble remembering their companions without feeling saddened by their fate. 

But this night, Serah, in a way that seemed defiant of hopelessness, carefully asked her new redheaded friend about Fang. The rest of the group tensed, watching Vanille closely for any signs of sorrow, but instead she smiled warmly at Serah, who had flattered her with her genuine interest in Vanille's old home and way of life. 

“What do you want to know about her?” she asked. 

“Well, anything. No one was willing to talk about either of you before… I’ve never even seen Fang’s crystal.” She glanced around at the familiar faces surrounding her. “But she’s a name that pops up in almost every story, and I want to know who she is. She saved us, after all. 

“You mean these guys have really kept quiet about us all this time? Even that lug over there?” Vanille nodded toward Snow. 

“Yeah!” Maqui piped up, feeling more confident in talking about it seeing that Vanille wasn’t upset. “Which is total nonsense, because the stories you told us tonight are my favorites so far!” 

That got a real smile out of Vanille. “Well, alright. Let’s talk a little bit about Fang.” 

Serah scooted to the edge of her seat, for the first time in months taking her attention off of her sister and giving it fully over to someone else. Which is why she missed the apprehension cross over Lightning’s features, and the rigidity in her posture. 

“Well, Fang was a wild one, even by Oerban standards…”

A sporadic array of images flooded Lightning’s vision, separate from the story that Vanille had launched into. In fact, Lightning’s ears were ringing again, and they were drowning out Vanille entirely. All of her senses were thus forcibly directed into her past. 

The images were disjointed and insignificant, but they were all Fang. The flash of a blue sari, a red spear. Bronze skin, Bahamut. Soon they assaulted her so powerfully she became bodily affected, and could smell the meat Fang was roasting across the fire from her, hear but not understand bits of words and sentences in a warm, lilting accent, taste her own sweat as she marched on after laughing green eyes. 

A dizziness overtook her as she realized she had gone blind. She couldn’t see the table in front of her, couldn’t pull her eyes away from her memories. She felt a breeze blow by, but she knew she was inside. She felt dirt under her feet, felt like she was walking but she knew she wasn’t. Terrified she looked around, but couldn’t pull herself back into the present. Reaching out for the table that was supposed to be in front of her, she leaned forward and felt herself fall hard to the floor, a searing pain cracking into her head. 

“Lightning!” Snow’s voice. She opened her eyes and saw a ceiling, and lights, and, now being guided to sit up by Snow, bar stools. There was Yuj, where he was before, and Sazh, and Vanille and Serah… Hope… ah, that was the problem. She had turned in her seat and forgotten about it. The table wasn’t in front of her after all, and so she had fallen. But that wasn’t the real problem, was it… 

Standing shakily to her feet, taking in the terrified eyes of Vanille and Serah, still seated in front of her, she now had to contend with the thought that, for a brief moment, she had lost her mind. 


	4. Gossip

Serah and Snow’s house had become Vanille’s temporary home. Serah found it a wonderful relief to have some company in the hours of the night when Snow was either still working to help the evacuees settle or too tired to do anything but recover in bed. But since Lightning’s collapse, she had seen another potential bonus to getting to spend so much time with the woman. Here was a girl who could tell her more about the time her sister spent as a l’cie, and from the few stories Serah had heard already, Vanille was willing to open up a lot more than the others. She was willing to talk about the more harrowing moments that Snow had previously omitted, perhaps thinking it would upset her. And she was willing to share more of the personal details Sazh and Hope usually tried to avoid, too bashful to recall certain things without getting flustered. And of course any story was more than she could get out of Lightning. 

“Vanille,” Serah began, late in the morning, after Snow had driven off. “Would you tell me more of your stories?” 

The other girl smiled back at her warmly. “You sure do like to listen to them. Looking for anything in particular?” 

“Well… if you could tell me more about Light? She never talks about this stuff with me.” 

“Yeah. I could. Alright… but _only_ if you don’t get me in trouble. Maybe there’s a reason she doesn’t want you to hear about these things.” 

“It’s not that she doesn’t want me to hear about them, it’s just that she doesn’t want to talk about them.” 

Vanille sighed in concession, and settled down at the table. Serah had the pleasure of hearing about Odin, and about the showy move her sister developed in which she dismounted midair while her eidolon took on the form of a warrior and flung her at her opponents. If she was perfectly honest Snow might have been right to censor some of the more frightful things they had done, because imagining her sister flying _towards_ bullets and monsters hit her much harder than hearing about her and her party flying _away_ from them. 

And then she heard perhaps the worst flying story she had come across so far, though Vanille insisted it was one of the coolest things she had ever seen Lightning do. Apparently Hope had fallen out of an aircraft— and had never cared to tell her. Vanille herself tried to save him, but they had both been swept out so far above the ground that they had what felt like ages to be rescued. Or ages to watch Pulse close in on them. Serah felt faint at the thought. 

But Fang had lunged out after them, and here Serah snapped back to attention, because she still knew very little of the woman whose stasis might just be the burden that still weighed so heavily on Lightning. And now all that she knew about her summed up to an outgoing personality and the willingness to leap from an air craft. She still wanted more. 

As Vanille explained, her eidolon was Bahamut, meaning that if she could shatter that crystal, they could all be saved. But how was she going to shatter it? Well, here Serah found herself going quite pale, because Lightning jumped out only seconds after Fang. And the two women, who had only just met, both had to trust the other to do their part successfully in midair, with the alternative of dropping to their deaths. 

And so Serah heard of their landing on Gran Pulse, and from there the conversation got lighter. She was treated to tales of horrifying insects crawling up her husband’s pant leg, of Hope’s spells going awry while he learned, and of poor Sazh trying to cope with the elements. She heard of the laughs they shared, and of the fights they got into, and while she wasn’t surprised to hear about the friction between Snow and Light, she had had no idea about the bickering that went on between her sister and Fang. 

But, Vanille admitted, Fang could be quite the antagonist when she was bored. And quite the firecracker. It was particularly fun for her, Vanille claimed, to get any sort of rise out of her companions. In Fang’s eyes, apparently, things needed to be kept lively, or they were all just going to succumb to depression. Yes, Serah could imagine very well Lightning and this Pulsian deviant had trouble seeing eye to eye. 

The funniest time, in Vanille’s opinion, was on one particular night around the campfire, when Lightning had gone to scout and Fang was left with just her and the boys. Snow had gone off reminiscing about the beautiful fiancée he had waiting for him at home, and Serah had to smile hearing that, and even brush away a tear. But all Snow’s talk had gotten Sazh going on about his wife, and that had spiraled out into all of their ex-girlfriends and _that,_ Serah was pleased to hear, had turned into a round of pestering Hope. Had he been in puppy love yet, they asked, and did he have some cutie waiting back at home for him? Vanille let Serah in on a secret here—Hope had flushed, ducked, and mumbled ‘no’ to every question, but she caught him glancing over at her, though she never let on. 

Well! So there was a romantic edge to that suicide mission! 

But teasing Hope became boring fast, so Snow steered it over to the Pulsians. 

“What, you wanna hear about _my_ ex-girlfriends?” Fang asked evenly. That got a laugh out of Snow, and, hearing it told to her got a laugh out of Serah too. What an edgy sense of humor. 

But Fang wasn’t kidding. 

“What do you mean?” Serah asked. 

“Funny, that’s exactly what Snow said!” Vanille chirped, diving right back into the story. 

After Snow started laughing, he realized Fang stayed completely serious. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I mean I could tell you, if you wanted, about the women _I_ courted. Though it doesn’t sound like I got as much attention as you, hero.” 

A look of understanding dawned on Sazh and Snow, though Hope was still left muddled in confusion. 

“So you’re… one of those types, huh?” Snow asked, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. 

“One of what types?” Hope asked. 

Fang delighted in the awkward haze that ensued. “Yeah, Snow. What do you mean ‘type,’ aren’t I just like you?” 

Sazh coughed uncomfortably. 

“What is going _on?”_ Hope asked again, feeling that he was missing the bulk of an unspoken conversation.

“We’re just talking about old lovers,” Fang said merrily. “I’ll tell you,” she went on looking over at Snow, “My first lass had the nicest thighs you could ever hope for. And that _ass."_ She grunted rather perversely, flexing her hands in the air in front of her as if to get a good handful. 

Snow and Hope both flinched in embarrassment. 

“But you’re a girl…” Hope gave her a cursory look-over. “Right…?” 

“Sure am.” Fang had looked so smug, seeing Sazh bury his face in his palm out of the corner of her eye. 

“That’s not really something that happens very often on Cocoon, Fang,” Snow cut in. 

“What’s not?” Hope asked. By then Vanille was starting to feel a little bad for the boy. 

“Lesbians,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “And Snow, we already know that. That’s why Fang’s teasing you.” 

“You’re only kidding, then?” Snow asked. 

“What the heck is lesbians?” Hope asked. 

“I’m dead serious, and,” she turned to Hope, “it means I take the ladies to bed.” She jerked her pelvis a few times from where she sat, eyes dancing from across the fire. 

“You know, I never really got that…” Snow began, and Sazh groaned, predicting the conversation that was to come and already feeling its discomfort. 

“I’m pretty sure I don’t even get what’s not to get…” Hope admitted, glancing to Vanille for support, as he often did when he felt the older members of the party were keeping something from him. 

She was kind enough to lean over and whisper a quick review of the birds and the bees into his ear while Fang went right on taunting Snow. 

“Oh, you Cocoonians are just so silly. And so vanilla!” 

“We’re _definitely_ not… ‘vanilla’!” Snow huffed, crossing his arms across his massive chest. “I just don’t get it, that’s all. So you see a nice piece of tail, that I can understand just fine. But just what exactly do you expect to do about it? You know, with your… lady body.” 

“My what?” Fang laughed. 

“You _know._ ” Snow sounded more defensive the more Fang smiled at him. 

“I give it to her, same as you. Just… hah, I guess not exactly the same.” 

By now, Hope and Vanille had commenced eavesdropping, and the silver haired boy was watching the debate with rapt attention. Vanille was just trying to hide her smile behind her hand, watching Sazh look around for another place he could go and sit down. 

“Right! It’s not quite the same. It’s not the same… parts. So why bother? Why not just go with men?” 

“Well, if it’s just parts you’re concerned with, a man’s got a place where you can stick it. 

Snow and Sazh straightened in their seats, in a way that seemed involuntary. 

“What?” Hope looked anxious, getting left behind again in the conversation. Vanille leaned down once more, whispering in his ear until he too was sitting straighter and looking at Fang like she was a monster. 

Well, of course Fang got a kick out of that, and was cackling when Lightning finally decided to make her return to camp. 

“What’d I miss?” She asked, sitting down to rest. 

“Fang’s a lesbian,” Hope offered, ever eager to seem helpful to the woman who was quickly becoming his role model. 

“A what?” Lightning asked casually, looking a little confused when Snow started chuckling. 

“She takes the ladies to bed,” Hope informed her with confidence, only realizing how silly Fang’s words sounded coming out of his mouth when Lightning looked at him strangely. Looking away embarrassedly, he mumbled “Well, it’s true. At least I’m not the only one who didn’t know.” 

“What do you mean?” Lightning directed her question more at Fang. 

“I fuck ‘em.” Fang had been as blunt as possible, hoping to get some sort of cringe or blush out of the soldier, or even a scowl for her foul language. Instead, Lightning simply stared at her for a moment, as if trying to verify what she said. 

“Oh. Alright. Well I’m turning in, now; I’ll take last watch.” And, stoic as ever, she went off to sleep. Fang later later complained to Vanille about how boring Lightning was. Apparently she had been having a lot of fun until Lightning came back and sucked the energy out of the conversation. 

Serah looked on with wide eyes as Vanille wrapped up her story. “I didn’t know women did that! And _men?_ Is it a Pulsian thing, or…?”

Vanille laughed. “No, it’s not. From what I can tell you Cocoonians are just in the dark about some things.” 

“So… ok.” Serah looked around uncomfortably while Vanille giggled at her expense. She suddenly felt like she was a little kid again, getting ‘the talk’ the first time from their parents. She must not have gotten a very thorough version of it. Or Lightning, for that matter. 

As if on cue, her older sister appeared in the back doorway, and stepped into the kitchen. “Hey sis,” she tried, hoping she didn’t sound as flustered as she was. 

Lightning noticed immediately. “What were you two talking about…?” 

And that’s when Vanille, still worried she’d get in trouble for sharing l’cie stories with Serah, made her graceful escape and claimed she was going to go babysit for Sazh. 

“Well?” Lightning asked, sitting down at the table. 

“Well, gosh, it’s a surprise to see you, today. You off duty?” 

“Yes, as a matter of fact. The retrieval of Fang’s crystal is being slowed down again, so that engineers can examine the structure. We’re still trying to avoid a collapse.” 

“Right, makes sense.” 

“So answer my question.” 

Serah felt she was perpetually at a disadvantage with Lightning, being born second. It was as though Lightning had a three year head start on her she could never close in on, and thus could never get away with anything. “Well… I asked Vanille for some more stories, that’s all. And shame on _you_ never telling me you landed on Pulse after a ten mile free fall!”

“Nice try. What’s got you blushing?” 

_It’s always hopeless with her!_ “Well, we were talking about Fang, actually. From what I hear she liked to make people uncomfortable…” Serah hoped that mentioning her sister’s missing comrade wouldn’t send her back into her gloom. It was a lovely surprise to have Lightning drop by, and she didn’t want it ruined. 

She watched carefully as a soft, wistful look overtook her sister’s features, and to her relief even the faintest of smiles appeared across her lips. 

“Yeah, she did. Seemed like she tried every day… so what did Vanille tell you?” 

“Uh.” How could she say it? “Well, shame on you again for never telling me what a lesbian was. I felt pretty stupid, just now.” 

To Serah’s astonishment, Lightning let out a small laugh. “Oh, really? I assumed you already knew. I never learned much about that stuff… but you always hung out with kids our age, and I know how they talk.” 

“Well, I must have missed out on that little chat.” She studied her sister for a moment, wondering how much she could get away with. “So, was Fang… did it make her any different?” She regretted the question immediately as a stormy, serious look crossed Lightning’s face, and she worried that she had pushed things too far. 

“No, Serah,” she said firmly. “Fang was just the same as every one of us. We were all in it together, cheating death, and cheating fate. We all put our lives in her hands, and she put hers in ours… we couldn’t afford to look at each other like that. Not as young, as old, not as women, or men, or as Cocoonians, or Pulsians. We were all l’cie. And frankly, I don’t think this world has ever truly been able to afford looking at each other any other way. It lead to the War of Transgression, after all. Along with every other war…” 

Serah listened in quiet awe. She hadn’t heard her sister pour that much passion into her words in quite some time. “What… did Fang look like? Would you tell me? All I’ve ever heard is her name, and now, after all this, I want to be able to see her. At least as best I can.” She had to know. She still couldn’t imagine half the monsters they told her about, let alone half the scenarios. And she knew she couldn’t begin to grasp as what it felt like to be a part of the bond that held them all together. But the very least she could do was try to imagine the face of the lost hero, who her sister and every other l’cie showed so much respect for. 

Lightning nodded, brows furrowing as she tried to figure out where to start. “She looks… tribal. And wild. Much more than Vanille. She actually comes off a bit like how they tried to portray Pulsians during the war. She wears the beads, a sari… has a tribal tattoo in black, right… here…” Lightning ran her hand over her bicep, half lost in thought. 

“And she has the build of someone who hunts for a living… a lot of lean muscle, and some battle scars if you looked close. Only her skin is darker… she said it was because her clan originally wasn’t from Oerba. And her hair’s dark too. It’s kind of like Sazh’s, but it’s long, and coarse, and messy. And her eyes are light. They’re green, but such it’s a light shade that when the sun was bright they sometimes looked almost gold.” Lightning paused. “I mean they _look_ almost gold." 

In her voice, Serah could practically hear the woman being brought back to reality, her slight reprieve dissipating. “Well,” she said, reaching for her sister’s hand and squeezing it, “I’ll be on the lookout for her for when she wakes up.” She hoped the nod Lightning gave her meant that she was still feeling well enough to stay for lunch. 


	5. A Nightmare

“Hey, Hope!” The young soldier was greeted warmly upon his entrance to Lebreau’s, but it did nothing to change the grave look on his face. 

For Lightning, the months after Vanille’s return dragged on at a dizzyingly slow pace. Hours inched by as she wandered aimlessly through her house, sitting out assignments and taking chunks of time off of work. 

“Something’s wrong…” he said uneasily, his eyes unfocused as he sat between Serah and Vanille. 

To the other soldiers, Sargent Farron was doing the expected. She had risen through the ranks rapidly as a young woman, had taken a part in saving Cocoon, had helped lead the reorganization of society, and had trained up a fresh class of new recruits. Now, she was sitting back and letting the rest of the Corps tie up the loose ends restoring order and clearing away enough territory for their new homeland. 

“What is it?” Serah asked, her voice shaky. She already had her suspicions. 

To those who knew her, Lightning was hollowing out into a shell of her former self. If she had seemed merely shell shocked before Vanille’s awakening, now she was truly sick. 

“It’s Light.” He looked apologetically around the table, across at Snow, Sazh, Serah, Vanille. “I can’t watch out for her anymore. She’s taken too much time off… her post is open ended, and their reassigning me to someone else. I can’t even get in touch with her to give her the news.” 

The truth was, no one knew how sick she had really become. Lightning had, for the most part, stopped eating. Sleep plagued her with warped with l’cie memories. PSICOM sniping Hope through the skull before she could pull him out of the way, Snow eaten alive by monsters she couldn’t slay, Cieth swarming Sazh before she could get to him in time. She would flinch awake, and her addled mind would take her dreams to be the truth, and she would mourn her friends and her failures, curling around her pillow to muffle her sobs. 

“Have you gone to her house?” Snow asked. 

“I knocked for at least a couple minutes. She won’t answer.” 

In her waking hours Lightning found her muscles coiling until they shook, tensing for attacks that never came. She would fall short of breath merely sitting on a couch, or break into a sweat trying to prepare a simple meal, her shaking hands sending dishes tumbling to the floor. 

“It’s getting late,” Serah said. “Maybe she’s just tired. I’ll check on her tomorrow.” 

Needless to say she didn’t trust herself to wield her gunblade. She couldn’t face her fellow soldiers should they find her shaking at her desk, and couldn’t face them should her mind or body fail her on the battlefield. So she stayed where she was, anxious and exaughsted. 

That night her dreams were haunted by Ragnarok. The beast had failed to hold Cocoon, and Claire stood alone on the wreckage, choking on smoke and with the understanding that Fang was crushed underneath not only the demolished country but under Lightning’s own weight as well. Without needing to see it, she knew that she was hurting Fang, and she wanted nothing more than to clamber off of the ruble. But it surrounded her for miles, and with every step she took, what lay beneath her feet sounded like cracking bones, and she couldn’t be sure they weren’t. She knew Fang was trapped, wincing in pain, and worst of all Lightning had the nauseating sense that the other woman didn’t blame her for it for a second. 

When at last she woke up there was a ringing in her ears. Dazed and with her face dampened by tears, the understanding that her furniture was toppled over was distant in her mind. She gazed numbly out her window, shaking and cold as her sweaty body began to cool off. 

A smog cloaked the glass and blocked her view of the outside, spiraling in various shades of gray, which she watched quietly, body still heaving with the occasional sob. Eventually the view cleared to a murky white, and within a few minutes she could see again, the outlines of the trees outside her window, the houses further down the street, and finally the expanse of Gran Pulse. 

But Cocoon was gone. 

She frowned, standing shakily and putting her palm to the cold pane of glass. She had stood in the hills of debris. She walked over it. She had been a part of what crushed Fang. 

Hadn’t she? 

Finally a pinprick of sound bled through the ringing, and with a small pop she could hear again. Chaotic screams, the wailing alarms of vehicles, animals screeching. At a snail’s pace Claire’s mind began to parse through reality and with a painful punch of adrenaline she realized what had happened. 

On clumsy legs she rushed to throw on her uniform, snatching up and loading her gunblade as she made a beeline to the front door. Only as she was opening it did she think of Fang. 

Her friend’s crushed limbs and gnashing teeth might be a part of her reality now. 

Or she could be an obliterated mass of crystal. 

XXX 

New Bodhum had indeed been constructed far enough away to avoid getting hit be debris. But the tremors in the earth that Cocoon’s crash caused had wrecked handfuls of unfortunate houses, had flipped a few cars, and had coated the roads in a thick, crunchy blanket of soot. 

Her lungs burned as she sprinted through the still faint cloud of dust. Her velocycle lay crushed under a fallen tree back in her driveway, and all she could think to do was make it to the GC headquarters. But, as she approached, she realized what a mistake that was. 

Platoons were already being divided as she approached, the names of districts being barked out before they took off. Peace had to be kept, order had to be assured. They couldn’t afford another string of lootings ravaging the neighborhoods. 

She knew the moment she was spotted by her commanding officer she would have been been better off running through the wilderness instead. In uniform, rushing towards headquarters after a disaster, she looked like a responsible, level headed soldier. 

But she wasn’t, and hadn’t been that for a long time. 

“Sargent Farron! You’ll need to take B Squad to the south east quadrant!” Behind him, a dozen soldiers were snapped at attention, looking at her with the utmost confidence in her command. Stomach sinking, she realized Hope was one of them. And that he was going to see this. 

“With all due respect sir, I cannot do that! I’m here to commandeer a velocycle and examine the remnants of Cocoon!” She could _feel_ the shock coming off of the platoon. She could feel Hope’s eyes burning into her too, though whether it was with disappointment for her selfishness or a reflection of her own determination to get to Fang she couldn’t tell. She was certain however, that she was not fit to be a role model. 

Her commander’s posture stiffened before he rounded on her with a look that could be considered savage. “You’ve been given your orders! Your obsession with the Pule l’cie is far less significant than the wellbeing of our _living_ citizens! In fact, this collapse may well be attributed to the tampering you’ve commissioned inside of the pillar! So get to work!” 

She had to find Fang. Flashes of her nightmare robbed her of her site for a moment and her vision swam with the images of a struggling, bleeding Pulse l’cie. She was certain then too that she wasn’t fit to be a soldier either. 

Then again, maybe she was. Her feet moved of their own accord to the platoon. Her jaw moved. She was certain orders were given. _Attributed… tampering…_ He wasn’t wrong. This was her duty. Not because she was ordered, but because she took on the uniform knowing full well what that meant. It was to be worn like a fal cie brand, her will to be a tool for a higher power. And it was what she chose, all those years ago. 

XXX 

Civilians needed assistance getting to medical centers. Security needed to be provided for those whose houses were cracked open like egg shells, possessions up for the taking. Panicked questions needed answers. Truly, she was a soldier, because from deep within the recesses of her mind she watched herself do her job effectively. Swimming in thoughts of shattered crystal, shattered bones, Hope's eyes still bore through her. When she finally managed to look at him he was only a few feet from her. 

“The sun hasn’t come up yet.” He said. “It’s still dark out.” 

Looking around at the streets, even darker than usual due to a power outage, she nodded. 

“Light, go for it.” He seemed impatient. 

“I can’t.” Her voice sounded lost, and so far away from her own ears. “I’m a… soldier.” 

He grabbed her by the bicep roughly, and shook. “Get to her crystal Light! Look around, this is nothing we need you for! Take one of the cycles. Go before anyone notices, before anyone can stop you!” 

He pulled her, guiding her across the street to where they were parked. “The army doesn’t control you. And you know it. And even if you don’t, _they_ know it. You won’t even get a demotion, you’ve got too much credit to your name. Just get out of here. Lightning, what if she’s awake?” 

_Awake?_

_Awake!_

Finally she started to remember who she was. She wasn’t Sargent Farron. She was Lightning. She was even Claire. Heading off toward Cocoon’s crash site, her memory was torn between Fang lounging around their campsites, talking shit, and smiling like she was everyone’s best friend, and her body emerging from the rubble, run through with steel pipes and shards of wooden beam, bleeding out. 

Because she couldn’t still be crystal. She had to be awake. And Lightning had to find her and finally, finally bring her home. Because even now that the brand was gone, she was a l’cie. And even with countless troops awaiting her command, she only headed a team of six, and they were her family. 


	6. Chapter 6

It was hours before Lightning finally pulled up to a jagged slab of Cocoon’s shell, sprawling a mile and glistening in the high sun from underneath mounds of broken civilization. 

A spike of crystal still jut out from the ground, coming to a fine point against a patch of clear sky no longer blotted out by the dead mass of the floating city. What was left of the pillar, it seemed, had split the shell to land in four quadrants still curved and cradling much of the contents of what used to be people’s lives. Between the major chunks of shell were thousands of splintered shards that hadn’t broken cleanly. Lightning walked on these now, moving to the pillar and wondering cynically if she would find any of her old furniture or childhood toys in the wreck. 

She had a long way to go. To stumble, really. Flashes of her nightmares came and went behind her eyes, and every now and then she was certain that a crunch or a pop under her boots was a body. Fang’s. 

As she moved she kept her eyes on the crystal, trying to gauge whether or not the cavern Fang was frozen in had fallen. It appeared to have. As she walked, she imagined all the ways she might find her friend’s body. The worst and best case scenarios. But mostly the worst. 

If after all this time, she found Fang dead, would she be able to take it? What would it feel like, after trying so hard not to hope? And failing? After so long with no closure, to have it all over in an instant? 

More terrifying, what would it feel like to find her alive? 

Most terrifying… what if she found her dying? If the slimmest chance was presented to her to save Oerba Yun Fang, after all the woman had gone through, and she failed? How could she ever explain it to Vanille? 

When finally she came as close as she could to the base of the pillar, she found herself faced with what looked like a diced iceberg. Meters high and perfectly smooth, she wasn’t sure how she could ever search through all the chunks of it. 

“Fang?” she called out feebly. Vanille had been released from her crystal. She had run out of the passage with Hope, able to speak, able to remember, fully conscious. “Fang…?” 

She hated it but she was starting to hope hard. Starting to want it desperately. She had put off thinking about it for as long as she could, only focusing on the here and now. But here she was and it was now, and it was Fang, alive or dead. She began to trot around the perimeter of the crystal shards, scanning for any signs of the other woman. She had to keep her eyes peeled. If Fang was still frozen, it would be nearly impossible to find her. 

That she allowed herself to wish for it, to imagine that it would all be ok if she just took a few more steps, meant that her stomach was nearly sunk with dread. Because it wasn’t working. She had taken a few more steps, and a few more, and there was nothing. 

“Fang?” she all but whimpered. 

She was beginning to get dizzy. The sleepless night, the blinding sun. The fear. The dizzying fear. Breathing heavy, she began to look frantically, picking up her pace. A part of her mind told her to slow down, to be thorough, but the rest of her felt like it would seize up entirely if she didn’t just take one more step, a few more steps. Because Fang couldn’t be stuck somewhere. She had to be flesh again, and awake, and just around this corner or this next one or this. 

“Fang?!” Her own voice sounded strange to her. It sounded so lost. 

A few more steps, another turn. Eventually she was barely even searching, merely chasing the blind idea that things would be ok whatever she did, if she would just keep doing it. And for a fraction of a second it looked like it really would be, when something gloriously, brilliantly red came into her field of view. 

In perfect condition, stabbing straight into a crystal slab was Fang’s lance. But just as her heart leapt to see it, her blood ran cold at how obvious it was that it was a lone artifact. Fang wasn’t anywhere to be seen. 

Catching her breath, she scrambled up to retrieve it, her hand wrapping firmly around the familiar weapon. How many times had she seen this flash by in the heat of battle? She pulled, feeling the crystal under her feet cleave slightly to accommodate the blades. She had never held it before, this relic older than six hundred years. 

As it slid free, she considered that Fang was also older than six hundred. She slid her hands along its markings, which, along with Fang’s tattoo used to mean something. Over six hundred years ago. Here she was trying to save someone from a different time. Someone from a dead world who she would give anything to see alive again. She hopped back down onto flatter ground, now wishing she hadn’t lost such control of herself. Could she have passed Fang? Or should she move forward? 

She looked down at the old lance, wishing it could give her some answers. Maybe it could. Frowning, she twirled it idly in her hand. This was a Pulsian weapon. On Pulse. And Fang was a Pulsian woman. On Pulse. If she were awake like Vanille had been… wouldn’t she have tried to go somewhere familiar? 

If she moved forward it would be toward Oerba. “Fang…?” she tried one last time, beginning to run. 

This would work. It had to. Fang was too incredible to be lost here. 

A misstep sent her foot sliding out from under her, her knee crashing into crystal and her body pitching forward. On the ground, miserable, she found herself yelling Fang’s name. 

Several yards to her right, bits of debris clattered to the ground. But she was lying still. “Hello?” She heaved herself up. Nothing. 

“Hello?” Again the sound of something sliding. 

Moving as quietly as she could, her eyes could barely focus on what she was seeing. The ground was littered with demolished machines, bits of clothing, old road signs, someone’s front door, green eyes— 

They stared at one another for a moment, Lightning standing on shaky legs, and Fang, on her stomach and covered in dust. 

“Fang…” She whispered the name, but couldn’t grasp what she was seeing. 

“…Light…?” Fangs voice was croaky and barely there. “How are you ok?” 

“How… are _you_ ok?!” She finally got her leaden feet to move. 

“Lightning…” Fang wheezed. “I can’t find Vanille.” 

“Vanille’s ok, Fang, she already woke up,” she murmured, reaching out to the other woman with glowing hands, trying to heal blindly whatever injuries Fang might have. Rather than look relieved Fang only grew paler watching Lightning work. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” 

Lightning hoisted her to her feet. The sun would be setting soon. 

Fang leaned into her heavily, but there was a dark look in her eyes and she didn’t seem to be willing to move further. In fact she looked like she was about to start retching. 

“Come on,” Lightning coaxed, eventually sliding Fang onto her back and beginning the trek back to her velocycle. Her mind was reeling so fast she couldn’t even begin to dissect her feelings, so instead she walked on, stone faced and silent as Fang fell unconscious. 

The taller woman was much heavier than Lightning had anticipated, but she supposed that that was what happened when one grew up on Pulse. Compact muscle. 

Working only with adrenaline, she got Fang back to the border of the crash site. 

“Where are we?” Fang asked as she was woken up and instructed to hold onto Lightning’s waist. The moon was already up and she squinted blearily into the night, trying to get her bearings. 

“Next to Cocoon.” 

“Where’s Vanille?” 

“She’s not here anymore, Fang. She’s probably worrying about you this very minute, so hold on, ok? We’re getting out of here.” 

“But where?” The last bit of her question came out as a yelp as Lightning kicked the cycle into gear. 

“New Bodhum.” 

Fang was unsteadily silent behind her. Lightning could sense her confusion and hesitation, and as the situation dawned on her, she slowed to a halt, turning to look at the Pulsian. 

“Fang?” She asked gently, trying to meet the dazed woman’s eyes. “Fang, it’s… been years.” 

“What?” 

Lightning was finally hearing the tremor in her voice for what it was. “Oh, _Fang._ It’s been years. Cocoon was empty. 

“It…” She looked hazily behind them for a moment. 

“Empty, Fang. We cleared everybody out. No one was hurt when you… fell. 

She turned back around to face Lightning, tears streaming down her face as she began to understand. 

“It worked. You did it. Everyone’s alright, alright? We’ve had time to rebuild… I’m taking you home. Ok?” 

Her only answer was a sharp sob and a stiff nod. 

“Now hold onto me again, we’ve got to go.” 

They went an hour in silence. In her mind, Lightning knew that she was in shock. But she was also thankful for it. The fact that she couldn’t feel any part of her body or her own emotions made it much easier to drive the long way home. The only thing she could really focus on was Fang’s chest against her back, shaking as she cried, and the road under her wheels. 

XXX 

When she finally got home, she didn’t bother parking in the driveway. Fang was back to knocked out and Lightning rolled right up onto her own lawn. 

Shifting Fang to the ground, she picked up the Lance and opened her front door, only to find a light on in her kitchen and hushed voices stop talking abruptly. As the scuffling of chairs rang out through the quiet house, she briefly wondered how many looters she would need to fight off before she could haul her companion inside. But then there were big innocent eyes rushing into her living room. 

“You're back!” 

“Hope… you can’t just break into my… 

Vanille came into view, walking slowly with her hands clasped in front of her. She was terrified. 

“Here…” Lightning said, holding the lance out to the astonishment of her friends. “Hold this.” She pawned the weapon off on the little redhead before the girl could even blink, before darting back outside. 

“Anima’s _graces!”_ Vanille sobbed. 

Lightning had scooped Fang up in her arms and was walking her carefully through the front door. 

“Is she—…” Hope looked uncertain as Lightning laid her down on the couch. 

“She was awake before…” 

“The phone lines are all down,” Hope said, watching Vanille kneel next to her sister, reaching for her hand as though she still might break. “But we’ve gotta tell everyone.” 

“What time is it?” 

“Well… it’s going on four thirty, but I’m sure they would all want to know. Though, I’m actually supposed to be out patrolling. Robbery and all that.” 

Lightning nodded absentmindedly, staring down at Fang’s head against her couch cushions. 

“Actually, you should probably be patrolling to. You… might be in trouble later.” 

“Too bad.” Her voice was practically hollow. Her head was beginning to swim again. Either she was coming out of her shock or it was about to get a lot worse. 

“Should we just let her sleep?” 

“Yeah…” 

Taking in the darkness under Lightning’s eyes and the stillness of her voice, Hope guessed it was time to let himself out. “I should go… tell Sazh. Last I spoke to him he was planning on waiting up for news.” Lightning nodded again. She barely seemed to hear him. 

Vanille looked up at the Sargent. Lightning only had one bed. And this couch. And she had been isolating herself for ages… behind her Hope was slipping on his jacket. “Um…” she squeaked out. “I think Snow and Serah are doing the same thing… and waiting up for me.” Lightning said nothing, still staring blankly at Fang. 

Vanille and Hope glanced at each other. Of course Vanille wanted to stay with Fang. But she didn’t want to impose on Lightning, who had gone through so much to retrieve her. That day alone, but also for years. Since the very beginning. 

“I could… drive you if you want?” Hope offered. 

They glanced at Lightning, who still gave no indication that she was aware of the social tension surrounding her. “Yeah, Hope… could you?” 

He nodded. “Yeah… we’ll come back… in the morning I guess. Let Fang sleep, right?” 

“Yeah. And… you too, right Lightning? You’re probably worn out, huh?” 

“Yeah…” It was obvious she was out of it. 

“Ok…” Vanille stepped up to the soldier. “Make sure she’s… ok tonight, alright?” She wrapped her arms around Lightning’s neck, giving her a loose hug that was faintly returned. 

“Right. Of course.” 

“We’ll be back soon.” 

“Yeah, ok.” 

“Ok…” The two left Lightning quietly, glancing back at her as she stayed where she was, standing over Fang. 

XXX 

Minutes flickered passed. Every now and then Lightning would reach her hand out to hover just in front of the Pulsian’s face, trying to feel her breath. 

She was alive. 

Eventually she moved, her body feeling somehow both stiff and loose, like a wooden puppet. She sat gingerly on the couch next to Fang, feeling for her breath again, but also resisting the urge to touch her. To prove to herself that she was real. There was that wild hair. That beauty mark. There were those dark eyelashes. 

She found her lip quivering as she felt the weight of her empty house pressing down on her. She was alone, and she was shaky, and she felt all out of sorts. All she wanted was for Fang to open her eyes. She was sure she had questions for Fang, though she couldn’t think of any. She was sure, too, that she had something to say though the words wouldn’t come. 

Barely recognizing what she was doing, she reached out and swatted the sleeping woman’s shoulder. When it didn’t rouse her, she did it again. 

“Nngh… Light?” Fang’s eyes were barely focused, but she looked up at Lightning with more confidence than she had before. 

“You’re in my house. Ok?” 

“Yeah… thank you.” She chuckled weakly. “Sunshine.” 

That old, sweet, nickname. It didn’t tick her off at all now. 

“You… we aren’t still branded are we?” 

“No. No, it’s over. We really did it. You… did it.” 

_“We_ did it. Don’t sell yourself short.” Nearly delirious with exhaustion, a smile was growing on Fang’s face. 

“Come on,” Lightning said quietly. “You deserve to at least sleep in a bed. Hero.” 

“Hah. Hero. Me.” 

“Yeah, you. Let’s go.” She supported Fang as she sat up, and guided her to wrap her arms around her neck, standing so that she carried the Pulsian once again on her back. And once again she was thankful for the numbness in her body. 

“You used magic before.” 

“Yeah. We get to keep it. The magic. 

A light gust of wind spiraled around Fang’s hand. “No way…” A moment later laughter was bubbling up against the back of Lightning’s neck. 

“With the fal’Cie dead, nothing’s regulated anymore. Not even magic. Hell, that might be the only reason you woke up. Nothing’s predictable anymore.” 

“Well that’s how I like things,” Fang mumbled as Lightning rolled her onto the bed. 

“You even seem to have aged…” She looked down at the taller woman curiously, resisting again the urge to reach out and touch her. 

“Really?” Fang ran a hand sleepily over her face. “I hope not too much.” 

“No… no, just enough. Just as much as you would have… but Vanille didn’t change at all.” 

“Oh.” A little smirked played across her face. “Good.” 

“Did you… mean for that to happen?” 

“Heh… a little,” she said sheepishly. “I was kinda hoping to… cut Vanille out of Ragnarok at the last minute. Like maybe it would save her.’ 

“Did you tell her that?” 

Fang scoffed. “Absolutely not. She would never have gone along with it.” 

Lightning wanted to complain then. She wanted to chew Fang out for tricking every single one of them. All so she could be so infuriatingly… so selfishly selfless. Instead all she could muster was a haggard sigh. 

“So where are you sleepin’?” Fang asked languidly, clearly comfortable on Lightning’s bed. In her spot no less. Lightning shifted uneasily. “…You usually sleep here, don’t you?” 

Lightning nodded, wondering if walking back down the stairs would make her cry before she fainted or vice versa. 

“Were you planning on sharing?” 

“I wasn’t planning anything. You really do deserve to rest up in a proper bed. For as long as you need.” 

“Light, I’m fallin’ asleep anyway. If it wouldn’t bother you it sure as hell wouldn’t bother me.” 

“Deal,” Lightning said, watching Fang’s eyes slip closed. With what little strength she had left she pulled the extra blankets out from under the bed and threw them over Fang and herself, before collapsing next to her comrade, who she was finally, finally able to bring home. 


	7. Chapter 7

Lighting woke up as though she were being held by a lover. Long, slender legs had curled behind her own, tucking her firmly against the warm hips behind hers. Strong arms had snaked around her waist at some point in the night, and now there were hands resting against her stomach, nestled against her own, a few fingers intertwined. 

Despite the peaceful breathing behind her, Lightning’s face was frozen in shock, as she stared wide eyed at her bedroom wall. She hadn't exactly expected the day to start off like this. 

Carefully, she took Fang’s hands in her own and unwrapped herself from the other woman’s arms, eventually managing to sit up without waking her. The huntress, usually as light a sleeper as the beasts she preyed on was out like a light. She peeled the blankets off of herself and regretted sleeping in her now rumpled uniform. 

Sighing, she shucked her jacket off as she stepped to the window, for the first time getting a view of clear skyline, with only a far off tendril of crystal to remind them all of what transpired. The society that tried to build itself in the sky, tried to rise above the natural way of things, had been struck back down at last. 

Yes, the sky was empty, and what filled it yesterday was now dozing in her bed. 

Below, she saw a handful of people crossing the yards and fields of their new world, laden with tools. The massive repair of their town had commenced. She hoped that meant an end to the opportunistic crimes, but doubted it. She watched as people called to each other from roof tops and trucks, but could only really hear the dim sound of a conversation creeping up through the walls. 

Her kitchen was occupied again, and judging by how high the sun was in the sky, it had been for several hours. Through the clinking of dishes she could make out her younger sister’s voice, and knew it was time to face the music. Another less than peaceful day was coming, she could feel it. 

And soon, people would be looking for her. Ranking officers calling her back to her post, prying civilians asking questions. All of it would boil down eventually to Fang, whose return to the waking world made much more of a bang than Vanille’s had. 

She looked more stereotypically Pulsian than Vanille, too. And she was a wild one. Would she fit in? Vanille had assimilated seamlessly, and took the gossip surrounding her in stride. But what would happen to Fang, who came back and brought several roofs down? Who was famous already for slashing Cocoon during the war? 

She hovered over the Pulsian for a while, still unwilling to open her bedroom door, the first step in facing the world. She also couldn’t help but feel a bit protective. After years of fighting her community for the chance to save Fang, what was to come next was a mystery. Before she bit the bullet and stepped out, she pulled the blankets away from Fang’s legs, working the woman’s shoes off before tucking her carefully back in. 

XXX 

Serah and Vanille were helping themselves to lunch when Lightning finally came down. 

“Oh, good, you’re up! How is she?” Serah asked. Vanille was looking a little shaky, like she wasn’t ready yet to hear the answer. 

“She seems to be sleeping fine. That’s all I know.” 

Vanille simply breathed, sitting back in her chair. 

“Well you just missed Hope,” Serah bustled around the kitchen like it was her own. “He got called on duty.” 

A plate of food was placed in her hand, and she was pushed toward the table to sit by Vanille. “Thanks…” 

“Everyone was here this morning, but of course there’s kids to raise and houses to fix.” 

“Right.” 

“But they’ll probably be back tonight.” Before Lightning could accept or reject the idea, Serah was seated in front of her, leaning in to look her dead in the eye. “You don’t mind if Vanille goes up and sees her, do you?” 

“O-oh… no, of course not.” Before she could finish the sentence, the redhead was out of her chair and bolting to the stairs. 

“She’s been worried sick. You should have let her stay here last night,” Serah scolded. 

“Oh. Sorry. I was kind of out of it. Still am, I think.” 

“It’s ok…” Serah took her sister’s hand. 

It took a monumental effort for Fang to open her eyes, but she was glad she did. “Hey, cutie.” She grinned up at the young girl standing over her, blue eyes rippling with tears. 

“Hi…!” She managed a shaky smile, kneeling at the bedside and taking one of Fang’s hands in her own. 

“So here I am,” Fang said, smiling warmly. She reached out to her little sister’s hair, ruffling it gently. “That sure was an adventure, huh?” 

At that, Vanille began to cry openly, brought back to their childhood, and to the day she volunteered to turn l’cie and stand by Fang forever. Only she had thought then that forever meant death. “Yeah,” she croaked. 

“Hey, what are you crying for? Is New Bodhum really so bad?” 

“No,” she smiled weakly. If Fang wanted to play the tough guy then she would let her. “I’ve made friends here, and learned how Cocoonians live. It’s a nice place. Of course it’s no Oerba.” 

“Of course.” They squeezed each other’s hands through a moment of remembrance. “Have you been back?” 

“No,” Vanille was beginning to hiccup through her crying. “I promised myself I’d wait for you. So we could go and visit together.” 

Fang sighed heavily, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Alright, enough with all this sad talk. Why don’t you tell me about these friends?” 

“Well, there’s Hope! He’s gotten a bit older, he’s like my age now. And believe it or not I get along just perfectly with Lightning’s little sister! The two of them are very different.” 

“Are you taking a shot at Lightning?” Fang laughed. 

“No, of course not! I get on with her too! It’s just that Serah’s become my new best friend here. And we hang out with Maqui. Remember Snow’s team NORA? He’s with them...” 

Downstairs, Serah shifted uncomfortably, watching her sister eat. “So…” she began, not sure how to broach the topic they’d been avoiding since they were reunited. 

Lightning looked up at her mildly, not noticing the apprehension in the girl’s tone. 

“So, how are you feeling?” 

“Better, thanks. The food helps.” She took a sip of the coffee Serah had brewed her. 

“That’s… not what I meant. Now that Fang’s back, do you… think we’ll be… seeing more of you?” 

The mug hit the table with a firm clack. “I don’t see what you mean.” 

“Just… you haven’t been around much lately." 

Upstairs, Fang was laughing. “That’s terrible! What about the damages?” 

“Well that’s the brilliant thing! Lebreau’s the owner of the bar!” 

“Ah, you’re kidding! God… Lightning must hate these guys, huh? Or does she run with a different crowd completely?” 

“Well…” A troubled look came over the smaller girl. “Actually, she doesn’t run with anyone.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well… Serah’s been worried about her lately. In fact, we all have.” 

In the kitchen Lightning had stood from her seat, and was pacing with her arms crossed in front of her chest. 

“It’s _not_ because of work, Lightning, we all know it!” 

“And how exactly could you know that, hmm? None of you work my job.” 

“Hope says—” 

“Hope doesn’t work my job either.” 

“It’s just that you’re missing out on so much, locked away up here day after day!” 

“Oh, yeah? What am I missing? Bar fights and drunken stupors?” 

“You know it’s more than that.” 

“What I know is that _you_ don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to me.” 

Well that hurt. Serah prided herself on her close relationship with her sister. She loved Lightning more than anyone. “Well fine,” her frustration now melted away, she was left sounding raw and ready to cry. 

Lightning looked quietly down at the floor, done with pacing for now. 

“If you manage to find the time..." she looked meaningfully at her sister. "See if you can’t just bring Fang down to the bar. Everyone’s dying to meet her. Ok?” 

“Fine.” Lightning had fallen so quiet, Serah almost didn’t hear her. 

Up in Lightning’s room, Fang was stunned by the news of the soldier’s health. As well as by the idea that her having been crystal might have been the biggest factor. She tried not to let it show, though. “So… I’m sure everything will be fine now, then.” She tried. 

“Yeah… I hope so.” 

“And when do I get to meet the gang?” 

That brought the smile Fang wanted to see back onto Vanille’s face. “Whenever you can! Everyone’s waiting for you. You’re _famous_ at Lebreau’s.” 

“Famous! You don’t say. The kind of famous I like? Or the kind I don’t?” She laughed. 

“The kind you like. Truly. We’ve been hitting them with some great stories lately—with you as the hero.” 

“Oh, _maker…”_

“No, it’s good! They like your style. I think you’ll all like each other.” 

“Will we? Well I have to admit, I kind of can’t wait.” She was covered in a hug then, as Vanille leaned over her as gently she could. 

“Are you feeling up to it? Does anything hurt, Fang? Are you sure you’re ok?” 

“Yeah, I’m feeling pretty good. All I need’s a little rest, I swear.” 

Neither Serah nor Lightning would look at the other. Eventually Serah stood and pushed her chair in, pulling on her coat. “I have to go. I’ve got some repairs to oversee.” 

“Of course.” Lightning leaned against the far wall, arms still crossed. 

Vanille came back into the kitchen then, smiling broadly. “Oh, is it time to leave already?” 

“Yeah, you all set? How is she?” 

“She’s fine. Gosh, I was worried for nothing. She’s the same old Fang, just a little sleepy! I told her I was going to help the town out today. She thinks she might want to do the same when she’s feeling up to it.” 

“Alright,” Serah didn’t let on that they had just been fighting. “Sounds good.” 

XXX 

When the girls finally left, Lightning climbed the stairs to finally check on her house guest properly. 

“Morning, Sunshine.” Fangs voice was tired and still battle worn, but somehow so, so warm, and it calmed Lightning down to hear it. 

“Hey… do you need anything?” 

“Nah, just rest. I’m thinking I’m gonna try and meet the gang tonight.” 

“The gang?” 

“Yeah, you know. Your friends? Gadot, Yuj...” 

“Oh. Maybe you should wait until you’ve had more time before you go out into a crowd like that.” 

“Oh, please. If I collapse at least we know you can carry me,” she teased. As the memory of yesterday ran behind Lightning’s eyes, Fang bit her lip guiltily. “Thank you, for that. By the way.” 

Ignoring the remark, Lightning went on. “There’s still a bit of trouble on the streets. I think you should wait…” 

“For what, crime to stop completely? I wanna go out and see the people here. I’m already popular down at the bar, Vanille tells me. And I’m especially interested in meeting this Lebreau woman.” 

“Lebreau?” 

“Yeah, ‘course. Vanille says she’s feisty. Maybe I have a chance, she seems my type.” 

“A _chance—_ look, Fang… your uh… practices aren’t commonplace on cocoon, and you should really be careful in your… pursuits.” 

“That was a very tactful way of putting it,” Fang grinned. “But as you’ll observe, your whole lot is back on Pulse now. Not Cocoon. So the ladies had better watch out.” 

XXX 

The day went on with Lightning coaxing Fang to eat, and fetching her water. And a lot of sleeping. And somehow, a lot of whining.

Fang nagged and nagged at Lightning to take her to the bar, to let her socialize, to loosen up and not worry so much about muggings and ‘pursuits.’ 

Finally the sun was sinking from the sky, and Fang surprised Light by turning up in the kitchen without any assistance. “See? I’m all good. And this is the drinking hour, isn’t it?” 

Sighing, Lightning redirected the conversation without even the grace of a segue. “Since you’ll be staying here at least a few more days, I should probably give you a rundown of the house and its appliances. How familiar are you with modern technology?” 

“Heh, not at all, actually.” 

On the counter, static buzzed through her radio. Hope’s voice came through a moment later, apologetically. “Lightning, are you there? Over.” 

Rolling her eyes, she picked up the device, setting aside the small dinner she was preparing for Fang and herself. “I’m here… over.” 

“Well we’re at the bar… but it looks like something’s gonna start in here. We’ve got a bunch of suspicious looking guys, fanned out. They keep looking around like they’re waiting for something. Uh, over.” 

“And why can’t you call someone on duty, if you feel you need backup? Over… dammit.” 

“I’m sorry, but Serah’s supposed to show up soon. I figured you’d at least want to know. Over…” 

At the mention of Serah, Fang perked right up, smiling across the room at Lightning eagerly. 

“I’ll be right there, over.” 

Fang hopped up. “I’m feeling much better.” She wobbled slightly at the sudden movement, but Lightning didn’t seem to notice, already walking away to grab her gunblade. 

When Lightning ignored her, she grabbed her lance, and waited smugly by the door. 

“You’re not getting in a fight,” Lightning said sternly, eyeing the weapon. 

“Sure, sure. But I should keep it with me, right? So it doesn’t get stolen? Probably worth a lot, this ancient thing.” 

“Whatever. _Dammit.”_ And they were out the door. 


End file.
